Time and Tide
by bowtiesandredhair
Summary: The madman in a box meets the madman in a boat, and fate entwines them. Or is one simply apart of the other's final chapter?
1. Crash Dreaming

Jack Sparrow-_Captain _Jack Sparrow, that is, sat lazily on his back as he yawned into the cold, dark night. His hand, o'course, gently cradled a musty, glass bottle. Of what? Does that sort of question even exist? He quietly muttered a tune to hisself, only partially drunk this time, but the manner of which the drink was disappearin', that soon would be rectified. The heavy footsteps of Mr. Gibbs anxiously thundered across the deck, and as they stopped by his head, one eye hesitantly opened.

"Cap'n?" The deep, hoarse voice of his friend..-no, acquaintance, a captain should have standards and the gray-whiskered man shot just barely below them. "Cap'n?" He gently kicked Jack's shoulder when his eye slowly closed for the third time, "_Jack_."

This prompted him to open both of his dark, brown, beautiful eyes and he stared critically at Mr. Gibbs, though didn't speak.

"Cap'n, the crew has been a bit concerned about…."

Jack thrust himself to sit up and he squinted at his acquaintance, opening his mouth as if to scold, yet quickly he brought the bottle up to his lips and began to chug with gusto.

"Jack." He persisted wearily, and then somewhat snapped, tearing the bottle from of his hand and rose to throw it across the deck. "For the love of Mother and Child, Jack! The bottle is bone-dry! You're not even drinkin' anythin'!"

Some sort of confused whimper escaped Jack's mouth and he stared at his empty hand with very wide eyes. "Well then, why did you eat it all?"

He sighed heavily, "Cap'n, the crew has voiced some concerns." Mr. Gibbs knelt beside him when Jack squinted at his face, "They're worried you're a bit…."

The dark brown eyes immediately darted back to his empty hand, "_Thirsty?_" He said sadly.

"Mad." Mr. Gibbs blurted, and quickly stuttered a cover, "W-Well, you been lyin' by the wheel for almost three days, just mutterin' some tune to yousself. They think you're..—"

"_Happy_?" A dumb smile spread across his face, and he began to quietly giggle, opening and closing his hand in front of his acquaintance's face.

Mr. Gibbs stared at him for a few quiet moments, "Insane, sir. You haven't given us any orders ever since you lied down here."

Jack motioned him closer, and he placed his hands on the broad, hefty shoulders, "Here are your orders, Mr. Gibbs." He said quietly, and simultaneously, they both raised their eyebrows in listening, "Go to bed, Mr. Gibbs. _Savvy_?"

With a heavy sigh, Mr. Gibbs stood up and Jack fell back against the floor, smiling up at him as he watched him shake his head.

"It'll be better in the mornin', Mr. Gibbs!" and his eyes slowly fluttered close, the tune lightly twittering in his head.

Such a curious thing, that tune. How it swept in his ear and begun to spin wildly around the insides of his head. Oh, how it never could be forgotten. Jack's eyes remained closed, peacefully closed, and he listened to the calmness of the sea that surrounded his beautiful ship. His _Pearl. _His beautiful, dependable….why, _sexy _even. The soft vibration of a snort tingled in his nose. Sexy. A ship that's sexy? Oh, but if there could only be one, surely his _Pearl _took the prize. _Sexy. _He'd remind himself, when holding the wheel in his callused hand, how he'd whisper below anything to be heard, how sexy his ship was.

A small smile came upon him as he slowly drifted into sleep, and absentmindedly he turned his head to the side, and his eyes slowly opened. There lay next to him, there what took in his sight, the face belongin' to hisself.

"Do you think I'm mad?" He whispered, though would later remember how no feeling of a cold breath brushed past his lips.

"_No._" He responded quickly, and offensively, yet it quickly melted into the same innocent confusion, "Do you think _I'm_ mad?"

"_No_." He replied confidently, and then they both turned their heads up to the vibrant night sky as it boasted its ocean of stars. "Do you think _you're_ mad?"

There was a pause, and he quietly murmured to himself. "I don't know. Do_ you_? About yousself?"

Jack somewhat pouted, "I don't know."

They both inhaled deeply, and put their focus to the stars. How they shined. _Nay. _How they _roared_ as vigorous lions that prowled the emptiness, escaping even the touch of darkness. Perhaps they weren't all ruthless beasts. Perhaps there were creatures that clung to the everything and they acted their roars upon the innocent. Perhaps their fangs didn't thirst for blood, but for the opportunity to hide away what once made them so feared and despised. Perhaps they healed and helped. Perhaps they had always watched over him, and guided him. Perhaps he'd meet them one da-

A quiet snore vibrated in the back of his throat, and he felt himself slowly slip from consciousness, drifting in the in-between. The tune gently thrummed in the background.

* * *

><p>Frantic shouting from both ends of the console room almost overlapped the straining bellows of the TARDIS. The Doctor attempted to stagger from its throws, yet it inevitably tossed him back hard into one of the chairs.<p>

"_Oh, don't do that!_"

He sprinted forward once more, and clutched the bar of the scanner, and his eyes darted to Amy Pond, who kept her head in her lap as she sat, clinging to the chair. A small smile spread across his face, his arm thrust a stubbed lever forward, and he began to laugh.

"Come along, Pond! Where's your adventure in crash-landing?"

She combed her hair from her face, pushing against the force that kept her head down and shouted back, "My bruises from last time _just_ started to heal—"

A powerful throw shoved them both to the glass floor of the TARDIS, yet he was only down for a moment until he threw himself back to his feet as the final bellow slowly softened to a purr, the quakes settled.

Amy lifted her head to see the smile fade from his face, and confusion swept over him. She staggered towards him and he nervously twitched when she looked at him expectantly.

"Okay," He quickly takes her hand in his. "I've got goods new, not-so good news, bad news, and horribly-bad news. Which one you like?"

She released a confused, nervous laugh at his dorky smile, and she thought for a moment. "What's the good news?"

Anxiously, he glanced to the TARDIS doors, and nodded his head to himself, "We're alive?"

"Why did that sound more like a question, Doctor?"

His dorky, somewhat concerned smile widened, and he pulled her around the controls as he darted for the TARDIS doors, abruptly stopping without warning and she accidentally crashed into his shoulder.

Amy groaned, and rubbed her sore nose that took the brunt of his stop. "What's the not-so good news?"

He stepped beside her, fishing his arm through a small storage cavity until he retrieved a long, long rope with a hook tethered to the end of it, and he nodded to her encouragingly. "Once the TARDIS is entirely idle, the gravity, er," He stared back at the controls, squinted, and glanced back at her, then down at her waist as he flung the rope around it. "The gravity is going to fail quite soon, or rather, start up correctly, which mea—"

The TARDIS reverted to a hum and the release of its stabilizers sent them slipping down towards the console. With an immediate movement, he trailed up the floor on his hands and feet as it quickly began to stand up against him as a wall, and tossed the hook through curved bar by the doors.

He gripped the rope, staring down to watch Amy as she continued to fall, and for a flash, his mind pictured her impaled against the various levers. Though before the twelve-inches of that occurrence dwindled away, he quickly wrapped the loose-falling rope around his free wrist until it compensated and strangled her still.

He gritted his teeth._ Hard_. He closed his eyes to the pain that tore through his skin and constricted a crackle through his bones.

"You all right, Pond?" He shouted down at her, "You need to climb up the rope, preferably now!"

His heavy groaning with each breath gave him something to focus on, as the pain slowly became more noticeable and excruciating, he continued to yell at her…...encouragingly and with the best intentions, of course. Though he was quite impressed with how fast she scaled up the rope, her long legs left dangling, relying solely on her upper arm strength, and she made it up to him in no more than about thirty-seconds. And as the rope had tightened with each one of her strenuous pulls, he was grateful for it to have stopped.

Amy looked at his wrist frantically as she saw the blood had now started to seeped through the rope, yet he forced his best "calm" smile and lifted his head to motion towards the doors.

"Climb up past me, Pond." He said in a huff, and blinked as fast and as hard as whatever it took to have another thing to focus on other than the pain.

As she slid her arm up past his, she gripped the rope and pulled herself further up.

He released a loud groan, relieved from the weight, and he glanced up only to be slapped in the cheeks with red as Amy's arse lifted up past his face, and for the split second that he is entirely distracted, his gripped loosened, and his palms burned as he slightly slid down the rope.

Amy had only caught this in her peripheral vision, and without a second thought, in the same moment she lunged for the Doctor's hand with one arm and she gripped the curved bar with the other. The hook almost immediately slipped through and her shoulders stretched roughly apart at the new weight of herself and him.

The Doctor yelled out from the pain of her hand squeezing around his bloodied wrist, and she felt it slowly stain into her skin.

"_Let go_!" He roared as she looked down at him from the excruciating strain that throbbed through her muscles. "_Pond, let go_!"

Amy ignored him, and started to swing her legs up to the bar opposite of her, until her boot slipped in the curve and she smiled victoriously as she steadied herself to reach for his other arm.

His breath had become raspy and a faint line of blood trailed outside of his mouth from the pressure of which he had bit down from the pain.

"_Let go, Pond_!" He yelled again, and slowly tried to shake from her grip.

Impatient from his constant shouting, she whipped her hand back down at him, and barked back, "_No, Doctor! Never! Now shut the hell up and let me think this through!"_

He pouted from her outburst, and immediately an idea shot in his head, feeding his dangling arm into one of his coat pockets, he pulled out a small round device.

With her free leg, she kicked the latch off on the TARDIS doors, looked down at the Doctor, expecting to see him either drowning in humiliation or beaming from being so impressed. When her eyes found him, she saw neither on his face. Just the dumb smile that she had seen previously, and it frustrated her.

She huffed an exasperated sigh, "All right, Doctor! On the count of three, I'm gonna…." She glanced back up the doors in low confidence, yet hid it the moment she glanced back at him. "I'll throw you up through the doors, yeah?"

He chuckled through his teeth, eyeballing the device he began to caress with his fingers, and he finally glanced up. "All right, Pond. Give it your best shot."

Amy gritted into an angered smile, and dug her nails into his wrist as hard as possible that could be taken as accidental or unintentional, yet his shouting, "_Aah!_", they both knew it was to remind him that she was saving him from that pain. A bit conceited, sure. But when would she ever get this chance again? She only partially allowed herself to believe it was the simple matter of getting back at his carelessness, but there was just something about it that she almost…liked? Eh, she'd settle that later, now was the time so show him up. With one more tightening around his wrist, this time out of steadying their grip, but she still stifled a smile at his, "_OW! BLOODY HELL, POND! STOP IT!". _She inhaled, and she felt her muscles slowly move to constrict together and the force of his weight diminished and her eyes watched him slowly move towards her, soon passing her, his mouth quietly whispering as his hand came to her face, holding the device.

"Anti-gravity manipulator." He said in almost a giddy tone.

However, before either could respond, the Doctor slowly glanced up to see himself speeding towards the TARDIS doors.

"_Oh_." was all he could mutter before his head bashed through them and the momentum sent himself flying through the open air, flailing like some flightless bird, and sounding like one too.

Amy grabbed the outside edge of the TARDIS, and pulled herself up, toppling onto the soaked deck. She tilted her head, and almost apathetically as she watched the Doctor fall from the sky, landing up by the helm of the pirate ship. She felt somewhat bad as she felt the fall vibrate through the wood, but she'd feel bad later, at least for a few quick moments she was going to remain where she was to watch the dark night's blanket explode with its stars.


	2. Savvy?

Amy's eyes finally open at the loud sound of overlapping cries.

"_My ship!_"

With a heavy sigh, she pulls herself up as the two men leap down onto the deck, both raising their arms above their head and muttering some sort of panicked gibberish. She watches them simultaneously notice each other, and she finds herself amused as they mirror the same hesitant uncertainty. With a quick movement, they both pull out a weapon and stab it through the air, accusingly to the other.

"Die where you stand, mate." growls Jack as he pulls the trigger on his pistol, the barrel of which is lightly illuminated by the green flash of the sonic screwdriver.

_Click! _The Doctor smiles at the cursing pirate as he shakes the pistol in his hand and throws it mirthlessly across the deck with a huff. She watches the exchange of wordless banter between the two, each sidestepping around the mast, and Jack quickly unsheathes his sword.

There is a smirk as he sees the stranger was somewhat surprised, "Looks like mine's longer than yours."

The Doctor scowls, "Oh, like that _really _matters."

"Then it's been a while for you, mate. Unless…" His eyebrows raise, still mirroring other's movements and they lower their weapon out of curiosity. "Eunuch?"

Overly-offended, the Doctor's hand darts back up, "_No!_"

"Sorry, mate. One can assum—"

Almost instantly, Jack's eye catches on Amy as she slowly creeps out from the cover of the shadows. He makes quick of returning his sword, and leaps toward her, as the Doctor stood in bewilderment of his actions.

With a sudden motion, he takes her hand in his and smiles, "Hello_. _I'm _Captain _Jack Sparrow._" _And he guides her hand up and kisses tenderly. "What's your name, love?"

The Doctor stands with a silent gasp on his face as he catches something faint of blush on her cheeks, and his eyes send daggers to the pirate.

"Uh, Amy." She utters hesitantly, with a mixture of flattery and confusion.

"_Amelia._" Jack purrs.

"Amy." The Doctor says quickly, "She said Amy, call her Amy."

"Oh, but I like _Amelia._ It sounds like a fairytale name."

She finds herself smiling as he releases her hand, yet her lips quickly fold together at the sight of the Doctor glaring to her disapprovingly.

With a swooping motion of his arm, Jack removes his hat and bows to her. "It be an _honor _to meet you, fairytale girl." Yet his charming smile fades as he glances to the strange, boring man. "Who's your dull friend?"

"He's the Doctor." She says, too amused by it all for her own good.

"The _Doctor_?" Jack repeats, placing his hat back on his head. "Tha's a stupid name."

"Well, sure." He wryly murmurs as he feeds the screwdriver back into the coat pocket. "Can't beat a name like Jack _Sparrow_."

"_Captain_." outbursts the pair of opposing voices.

His green eyes slowly look to Amy, who had already pressed her lips together from her thoughtless correction. He shakes his head at her, insulted, and then glares back to the pirate. With a frustrated huff, the Doctor turns around and angry-walks back to the TARDIS.

"That's _it_. We're leaving, Pond."

Jack looks to her curiously, "_Pond_?"

"It's like a pet name, I guess." (an outburst from the Doctor goes unnoticed in the background)

"Oh? So he fancies you?"

"No, not like that." ("_No!_")

"I think he does." ("_Don't do that!_")

"Fancies my casual company, if that's what you mean."

"My meanings entail that he fancies you in a….." He quickly glances down at her chest and darts his eyes back up as she arches an eyebrow at him. "_comfortable _manner."

"You always this charming, Jack?"

He smiles, leaning in closer to her as she gave an interested look, "_Inevitably._"

They hold each other's steady gaze for a moment, until the stomping footsteps of the Doctor interrupt whatever it was that was…was-ing.

"It won't let me in." admits the dejected Doctor, hanging his head only for the wish to be comforted by his Pond.

"I've an idea that's universal problem for you, mate."

Suddenly, the Doctor convulses indignantly, shaking his arms at the pirate, "Oh, _shut up, Jack!_"

"_Doctor,_" Amy says soothingly, and moves to rubs his arm, "I've never seen you like this."

His head dart back to her and she notices something crazy in his eyes, "The TARDIS won't let me in. The doors are _shut_."

Immediately, Amy's eyes drift to Jack and he opens his mouth for another remark, yet both are quickly disappointed as the Doctor lifts a finger to him.

"Still _shut up_."

Jack mutters, "My _word, _man, I can't even imagine how you are in bed."

"_What_?"

"_What?_"

"_What_?" Jack mimics and quickly glances to each one of the faces who are giving him a puzzled expression.

"You're picturing me in _bed_?" asks the Doctor, somewhat disgusted, partially bewildered.

"_No_." He says with a deep voice, "I was speakin' in the manner of which," He motions to Amy, "_you _would know."

"_What_?"

"_What?_"

"_What?_" He mimics again, and tilts his head at the confused strangers. "You were sayin', mate?"

The Doctor shuffles in place, and anxiously digs his hands into his coat pockets, "My _ship_ won't let me in to sail it."

In the same moment, they all turn their heads to stare at the TARDIS as the bottom of it sticks out while the rest remains pierced through the deck. The Doctor sighs and slowly walks back up to it.

"A _box_? You be wantin' to….get inside a box?" He turns back around and rubs his forehead. "How drunk _am _I?"

Amy glances behind her for a place to sit and leans up against the wooden railing, leisurely, "Obviously not enough if you're not fantasizin' about shaggin' a pretty girl."

Immediately, she closes her eyes tightly with the realization of her thoughtless utterance, and hesitantly, she opens them to see Jack twirling around, giving her a seductive smile.

Amy lightly chuckles and shakes her head as he takes steps to her, yet before he can swoop his hat off his head again, flirtatiously this time, the Doctor catches him in the corner of his eye.

"Oi, _Jack_." He barks.

Jacks corrects him with a sing-songy tone. "_Captain._"

"We all know you've got no morals, that's clear. But I would fancy if you would leave her—" The Doctor suddenly slaps himself in the face, "Ow!" and again "_What did I miss?" _three more times _"What did I miss?_" A strange smile spreads across his face, "_Oh, yes._" And he walks up to Jack. "Where is your crew, _Captain_?"

"Sleepin' the mangy dogs they are." He says peacefully, and then realization sets in. "Why aren't they swarmin' the deck..—"

"No, _wait._" Another slap to the face, and he cringes at the insensible sting. "Forget that. Perception filter. How _stupid._"

The Doctor lightheartedly twirls back over to the TARDIS, "I won't be able to work on her in the pitch black of night." He shoves his hand in his coat pocket and slips out the sonic. "So I'll have to hide her." With a whirring, green light, the TARDIS fades into the blackened wood of the deck, and he returns the screwdriver back to his jacket.

"We're in need of accommodations, Jack."

Amy and Jack look at him curiously and then to each other as his mood seems to have suddenly been brightened, and he stands with a strange, cheery bounce in his step.

The pirates squints suspiciously, "What if I just throw you overboard, eh?"

That strange sort of smile spread across his face again, "Oh, come on, _Jack_. You're a not-very respectable captain. You at least want it to be a fair fight."

Amy quickly glances to Jack and then to the Doctor, "W-Wait. A fight? For _what_?"

Simultaneously, they both slightly turn in her direction, giving her a questioning look, then quickly back to each other.

"Aye," He proudly smiles, "and a fair fight it shall be."

Amy leans up off the railing and looks to them as they share a knowing glare, "All right then, raise your hand if you're being odd and…mad."

She rolls her eyes as both of their hands dart up with a devilish smile on their faces, and the cold fog of her breath carries an ill-humored laugh.

"Got a room for us, then?" asks the Doctor eagerly.

Jack pauses for a moment in thought, rubbing his beard, and a smirk comes upon him and it carries in his eyes as he glances back to the Doctor.

"I've got the perfect place for you, mate." He swoops him around, "Below deck with the rest of the filthy cur."

"What about _me_, Jack?"

The Doctor smiles at the innocence she forces in her tone, and though his back is to her, he can still see her eyes play the part to a T. He sees Jack turn around and pause, as he must've stared into the bright, controlling spheres.

"Well, of course, love. It's the captain's quarters for the beauty."

The Doctor silently gags at the purring sound of Jack's voice, and slowly he takes his chance to back away.

"Oi, what are you doin'?" Jack grips his arm and begins to pull him back towards the door.

"Wouldn't you prefer me in a place where I couldn't roam around your _ship_ freely and unnoticed..ly?"

With a grumble, he concedes, and motions them to follow him across the deck. Before the doors creak open, he rushes through the shadows for the lighting of candles to impress a certain candlelight-haired girl. The Doctor looks unimpressed at her as the room is slowly illuminated by each flickering fire, though she can't help but smile.

"_Oh_." Jack murmurs, and Amy leaps to his side, despite the disgruntlement of the Doctor.

"What is it?" She asks as he looks through various places on his person. "Oh, here."

Before he can glance up, she retrieves a small box of matches and quickly demonstrates. They share a sweet smile, as the Doctor sighs in the background, rolling his eyes, and she tosses it to him.

"Save 'em for later, shall I?"

Amy slowly drifts back to where the Doctor stands as he continues to light candles, and he leans in to whisper in her ear.

"_Pond, _what are you doing?" He forces as much as a light, questioning tone than the green beast that tore in his chest.

"What? I'm being friendly—"

"_Too _friendly."

She scoffs at him, "You're being ridiculous—"

_"You're_ practically _canoodling _with the pirate!" He angrily whispers.

"_Canoodling_?"

"Oh, _shut up_."

"_Careful, _Doctor. People might start to think you're becoming jealous."

He forces a shirking (quiet) laugh, "J-Jealous? _Psh, _of w-what?"

His eyes stay on her as she watches Jack rummage through some old cupboard, and he wonders if she'll say it, yet the silence pours through and she seems lost in thought or distraction.

He gently nudges her to get her attention back, "You said I was jealous of something—"

"Yup." She says distantly.

"W-Well, _what_? I should like to know what I'm being accused of."

She turns her head to him and shushes, "That he's a better captain, of course."

_What? No. That's not it at all. And even then, he didn't know what. But surely she did? _Though he figured by the look on her face, she undoubtedly had no idea regarding anything else.

"Oh, yes. Of course." He murmurs, and she gives him a reassuring pat on the arm.

When the room is fully brightened by the candles, her eyes scan around it for a place to crash.

"I don't see a bed." She says quietly.

"I sleep in the chair." replies Jack, and he pulls out a thick sheet from underneath a cupboard, "The both of you, being the ones in need of comfortable place of sleepin', will have to fight over this."

"That's a hammock." And both the Doctor and Jack catch the other in a glare.

Amy says with that optimistic, child-like air, "_Cool._"

"_Cool_?" repeats Jack, immediately looking to her for an explanation.

The Doctor rubs his hairless eyebrows at Jack's 'lost dog' impression, "It means 'good'."

"So why not just say 'savvy'?"

A smile spread across her face, "_Ooh_, I like that."

"No, you don't." grumbles the Doctor.

"I think I'll say it from now on." She says gingerly as Jack smiles in the background.

"_Please, _don't."

"_Oi,_" Amy turns to the Doctor,"_'_geronimo', 'who da' man?', and 'yowza'. Shut your face_, savvy_?"

"If there ever could be a person who says it best, Amelia, you are the only."

Another groan at the two of them, and the Doctor turns his back and begins to wordlessly mock him as he hangs up the hammock. Though for him, it seemed like five minutes, he turns around to see that Jack had already broken out the rum and both of them were drinking heartily.

He strides over to them, and his eyes fixate on Amy for self-control, "The hammock's up, Pond."

The half-full bottle slowly leans down from her lips, and she sighs contently.

She speaks with a faint slur. "Well, half-empty. That's what we decided on, wasn't it, Jack?"

"Technically," He coyly slides the bottle back over to her hand, "it's still half-full."

She hoarsely chuckles, and leans for the bottle again, yet before the neck rests in her palm, the Doctor takes it and slides it roughly back over to Jack, giving him a warning glare.

"How about you let me get you to bed, Pond?"

"_Oh,_" She putters her lips up at him and groans. "Just one more sip?"

"_Pond_."

"Savvy?"

He slides her chair back and wraps his arms around her and he carries her up to her wobbly feet. With her head lifelessly leaning against his chest, he walks her over to the hammock.

"Jack said the feelin' of bein' drunk cancels out the feelin' of bein' seasick."

"I can't imagine how."

He gently places her in the nook of the hammock and she groans again as he tosses her long legs inside.

"_This _doesn't _help_." She mutters, "Rocking on a _ship_ in the _ocean_, drinking some _good_ stuff, now in a _swingy _bed-thing. So much swingy _move-y-ness._"

The Doctor slowly glances back to Jack, who luckily is already passed out in his chair, and his eyes revert back to her, somewhat surprised that she was looking up at him.

"Not gonna scooch in?" and before he can shake his head, she starts to wiggle to make some room, "I could use the steadiness."

With one more glance back at the snoring Jack, he worms his way into the hammock, and it isn't until her alcohol-ridden breath is sifting in his chest that he realizes she's sprawled over on top of him, her arms and legs spread out over him like long branches.

And despite it all, the insufferable swinging of the loose hammock, the fear that perhaps he didn't tie it tightly enough to hold both of their weight, the untrustworthy pirate who may or may not be unconscious, it was all…..nice. She started to slip into dreaming, with her falling-asleep gibberish muttered on his skin, and that little splotch of her drunken drool coming through his shirt. It was all…..nice. His Amelia Pond, sleeping, peaceful. And she was in his arms. And he could feel each breath that was given and taken pass through her chest. And her quiet, calm heartbeat. And the strands of her hair that nuzzled up by his face, with her scent. Despite it all, he could almost feel himself join her as his eyelids flutter close and the worries seem to slip from his consciousness in the same moment he did.


	3. Enlightenment

In what seems like a mere second, his eyes jolt awake and he frantically gasps for air. The weight of her sleeping body keeps him from lunging out of the hammock, and it's only until the last flickering candle catches his eye that he remembers what happened and where they are. He swallows the nightmare as fast as his mind replays it, quickly glancing down to the top of her head, and then he finally feels it. His eyes trail down her arm to where the warmth of her skin meets his. She had loosened a few buttons on his shirt and slipped her hand through, resting it over his panicked hearts.

The Doctor steadies his breath, and slowly glances to the chair where he last saw the snoring pirate, not at all surprised to find the seat empty. Squinting through the disagreeing darkness, there's a sliver of moonlight that's creeping through the dual doors of the captain's quarters. He gently slides his thumb under her wrist, and carefully drags it out of his shirt. He's barely breathing, in fear of waking her. But as he slips from the cavernous cloth and it sways in settling itself back, he realizes how he must have entirely forgotten. When Amy Pond is sleeping, she's dead-asleep.

For a moment, he stands over the gently swaying hammock, and tilts his head curiously as he watches her. Something peaceful about the way she lays there. He smiles as she subconsciously scrambles in the deep nook, muttering some sleeping gibberish, and sniffling. Perhaps her subconscious notices him gone. All right, he lightly shakes his head; she's cute. And his mind keeps it strictly 'cute'. Shaking away whatever longing that he has for her warmth in his shirt.

Suddenly, his professional composure slaps him fully awake, and his green eyes dart down his chest to where her warmth is draining into the bitter cold. He quickly secures the few buttons that had left his shirt rather gaping-open and he smooths the row of them neatly down.

"Honestly, Pond." The Doctor quietly huffs, and he straightens his bowtie self-consciously.

The deck outside settles with a loud creak and he darts his head towards the doors, twirling around to them, and tip-toeing near the sliver as he peeks an eye through. There, sitting near the edge of the ship, is a small crate and a figure sitting, arched over it.

One final, checking glance back to his Pond and he silently steps out in the basking glow of, what he assumes-_wait_, slipping his wrist up to squint at his watch, he smiles. _Yes. Around 4 A.M. Roughly two hours, or perhaps three_. He can't really recall entirely, and the dazed-senses seem to wrap around him all the more every time he tries to think. His thoughts go back to the way she looked at him up from that hammock. Her face. _No. Dear goodness, _did he have any of that insufferable rum or did he somehow get drunk just off of her breath? He sighs, and his view wearily travels up the blackened planks to catch a pair of eyes watching him.

The Doctor's reaction is entirely awkward and yet equally solemn, the Time Lord stares up at the stars to pretend such a casual nature as he steps over to the pirate.

"Oh, hello." He murmurs, clearing his throat as he stops to stand beside the dark-eyed charlatan. "Jack."

The Doctor releases an exasperated sigh at the sight of the foggy glass bottle that cradles in the callused, filthy, ring-covered hand. "Eh?"

"There's something I'm a bit curious about." He says, and his eyes remain on the trembling reflection of the moon on the water.

"Eh, mate." Jack lifts the half-empty bottle of rum towards the Doctor's hand, to which he crinkles his nose disapprovingly.

"I don't drink your humany alcohol." He remarks flatly, shoving his hands firmly in his coat pockets. He takes a quick glance at the pirate's facial retort. But as expected, he's dead-beat drunk and the only thing on his face is a mixture of sweat and drool, as it struggles to seep through his thick, scraggly beard.

"You're boring, mate. _Dull._" Jack hoarsely growls, taking a heavy swig of the rum. "No wonder that gingery girl doesn't look at you the way she wants to."

"There's something not right here, Jack." His voice is quiet, suspicious, as he slowly glances around them and leans closer, reluctantly taking the bottle from the pirate's hand. "I thought I could pretend it was just an accident, but…" The Doctor faintly cringes at the fumes that catch up in the bitter breeze and breathe up to his cold face. Yet without another second of staring down its neck, he shoves the mouth to his lips and chugs thoughtlessly as it lightly burns down his throat.

Jack turns his head to him and his dark brows furrow, quietly smacking his lips together at the sight of the liquid depleting._ His _liquid. Though whatever drunkenness suffocates his senses, he simply sits and watches it travel down the Doctor's throat, squinting at his bulging Adam's apple as it darts up and slowly descends.

With a growling, gibberish huff, the Doctor tears it away from his mouth and with a grand motion, throws the empty bottle off the ship. They both cling to the distant splash and the shattering image of the glowing moon as it stretches down the horizon.

"I hadn't done with that." Jack quietly hiccups, bringing the back of his hand to wipe his slathered mouth. "Fortun'tly, I keep a spare for the occasion." He reaches beside the crate and squeezes his fingertips around a fresh bottle's neck. "Tho' it was intended for gingery girl."

"I suspected as much." And with a quick, wobbling motion, he tears it from the loose grip of the pirate and chomps down on the cork, jerks it free, and spits it out to the water. He cranes his head back and resumes to chug heartily.

"I like you better not drinking my rum." Jack pouts and presses his thumbs into his eye sockets as the migraine is overlapping with another fresh coat of paint, er, drink, er, _paint_. "Why are you doin' this?"

The Doctor splurts out a satisfied sigh, and throws the empty bottle to the place of its brother. "You like makin' fires, Jackie?"

His slurring amuses the pirate into a childish giggle and before either of them know anything, their sneakings below deck and the pouring of gunpowder around the mast, coupled with the bowtie tethered around the eyebrowless forehead and the shirtlessness and the sky-reaching fire as they dance around it, hollering, and the carelessly tossing a few half-empty bottles of rum to watch them burst and the tackling and exclamations of senseless rum murder and the brawl and hide-and-seek and the gibberish and the insult-taking from the gibberish and the swinging on the ropes of the sails and the slipping and falling onto the deck and sword-fighting simply with their arms bent. It was safe to say, as each finally collapsed from the drunkenness, the charred and damaged _Pearl _and the frantic crew and the stern face of the red-headed girl would promptly meet them both when the sun reached the center of the sky. And it all would come too soon.

* * *

><p>The gentle swaying of the hammock was useful to her during the night, as it didn't take much effort to turn over and vomit up whatever the hell she couldn't remember drinking. As the sunlight breathes through the thin fabric of the curtains, her eyes briefly flutter open, and yet just as quickly, they seal shut and she buries her face back into to the cavernous cloth. The off-putting sound; half-asleep and she pictures a stampede of polka-dotted buffalos mucking about out on deck. The heavy footsteps and grumbles and manly-sounding murmurs.<p>

_Sure,_ she thought, _let it be polka-dotted buffalos._

Her hand blindly presses down into the scratchy fabric of the hammock, feeling for his chest. But too far and her hand slips out and the lifeless weight crashes onto the floor. Immediately, she groans at the smell of her setting vomit as her head throbs painfully and her dry-mouth presses itself together, mostly to keep whatever moisture in, and mostly to fight off the reeking smell that has her staggering across the floor, and she collapses tiredly as she reaches a place without its essence.

Amy sighs heavily as she turns to lay on her back and she stares up at the wooden ceiling and sniffles. The migraine is a bit dull, yet the pain from it leaves her head muffled and dazed. As she yawns, a spur of commotion outside of the captain's quarter's lunges her up and she quietly groans as she holds her head. Slowly, she wobbles to the dual windows and slightly pulls back the curtain to see a crowd of men all surrounding something as they stare down at the deck.

The white-whiskered man is standing in the center, Mr. Gibbs, with his arms crossed and an unsurprised expression on his face as Jack finally comes to.

"Cap'n." utters the firstmate as gently as he can. "Cap'n, all the rum's gone."

Suddenly, a brown eye shoots from behind an eyelid and cringes at the sunlight, attempting to focus on the face.

"The rum?" Jack mutters hoarsely. "Why is—"

A stick-figure man with an eye patch quickly speaks up, "We guessin' you and this here other…" They all pause a moment to stare curiously at the pale chest and the sleeping face of the strange stranger.

"Though we not entirely sure, Cap'n." says Mr. Gibbs impatiently. "The _Pearl _seems to have taken a bit of damage too." The hangover leaves Jack unable to deduce the man's knowing, "This isn't the first time you've done this, Jack." tone, and as the madman wobbles to lean up, he squints over to his unconscious companion.

"Oh." He murmurs, and with a quick motion, reaches over to him and pokes his neck. "Oi." Yet the Doctor remains still, only a slow rising and falling chest giving evidence he's alive.

Jack shrugs as his few times of poking didn't work and his eyes travel up the deck to stare at the doors of his quarters, squinting hard to see them slightly creaked open. A faint, blurry image of the gingery girl comes to his mind. And his eyes find the real thing too late.

"Oi!" a voice shoots off behind the crowd and they all turn to stare down the barrel of Jack's pistol. "Stand away."

"Oh, Amelia!" Jack announces cheerfully, darting a waving hand up, and she immediately points the shot in his direction.

"You shut up." And the childish hand goes down.

The crew hesitantly backs away as she steps closer and she kneels beside the Doctor, whose eyes are slightly parted.

"We ain't mean no harm there, poppet." She finds the very round man with the scraggly hair and gives an unimpressed look.

"Do forgive me if I don't entirely trust your words." Amy remarks and takes a quick glance to the raggedy man's face.

"What's wrong with your voice?" The Doctor murmurs as he squints up at her.

"My nose gets congested when I'm hungover, all right?" She says impatiently, and then sighs, staring off, as she tries to sniffle as quietly as possible, but by the time she glances back at him, he's smiling.

"You sound ridiculous." He says.

Amy shakes her head critically at him, though the price of it is stirring the subtle headache back into life, "Well, this is how you sound _all _the time, then." One more disapproving head-shake and she stares at him, "What the hell happened?"

"I'm not entirely sure." He admits. "Too much alcohol."

Immediately, her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Alcohol? You drank rum?"

"Among other things, I believe." The Doctor slowly plops his head to the side and squints out the blurry image of Jack. "Do you recall very much drinking hot wax at one point?"

The pirate wobbles a bit as he struggles to stand up against the charred mast, "I thought it was watery gun powder."

"You drank gun powder?" asks Amy frantically and she looks to the Doctor with wide, worried eyes.

"No, no, no." He mutters soothingly, "It was among the things we drank." The Doctor looks over to the pirate, but he staggers up too quickly and immediately stumbles backwards, though Amy catches his fall and he wraps an arm around her as she steadies him. "Was it wine?"

Jack lightly shook his head, "No, no. I don't think we did. Perhaps it was saltwater?"

Immediately, the Doctor snaps his finger at him and smiles, "No, no. We combined the wine with the saltwater and added a bit of mutton grease." Jack responds with an agreeing snap of his own fingers.

"Again, what the hell happened?" Amy lightly shakes the limping body in her arms and he turns his head to her and nods, almost to himself.

"Blokes bond with bonding bloke bondingness."

Her eyes narrow, "Did you take drugs or something?"

Almost simultaneously, Jack and the Doctor shake their heads, and her companion pats her on the shoulder, "No, no. I only had a few puffs of some pipe, but it there technically wasn't any tobacco or marijuana." He turns to Jack for confirmation, "I think actually we scraped some strands off of the ropes and tried with that." Suddenly, the Doctor turns back to her and shivers, "Blimey, your hands are cold. I just noticed."

Amy quietly scoffs as he stares at her hands holding him around his bare chest and he arches a suspicious brow at her. "Then I suppose you haven't noticed the crowd of filthy pirates surrounding us."

He somewhat flinches as he squints around the crew's faces, but it all lasts for a moment until he returns to his dumb smile and wobbliness. "Love a pirate."

Jack outbursts approvingly and Mr. Gibbs shakes his head, motioning the crew to disperse away from them and with a confused air, they obey and shuffle off to various places of the ship.

"Cap'n." says Mr. Gibbs gently. "I understand you're not ever really known for makin' sense, but these strangers…" He hesitantly glances to the odd pair as they transfer a quiet banter, to the red-haired girl as she scolds the other. "Who are they?"

"They fell out of the sky." Jack slurs proudly and wraps an arm around his firstmate. "I don't think they'll be much help. But they can't hurt."

"And a damaged mast and a giant hole in the deck…?"

Jack slowly smiles and tightens his grip around Mr. Gibbs, pulling him in for a whisper. "And all the rum's gone."

His companion releases an exasperated huff, "And what tells you they're no trouble?"

"Insulted, Mr. Gibbs." He says and brings a quick palm and slaps against the thick, whiskered cheek. "I never said they weren't." They both stand in silence, though Jack with a twitch in the corner of his mouth, watching as the two strangers wobble into the captain's quarters and the doors behind them rattle shut.

* * *

><p>She guides the Doctor to lean against the table, and she sighs as he runs his hands over his skin, almost seeming confused.<p>

"Why does it smell like sick in here?" He asks. His curious, hairless lumps that sit under his forehead push up against the constricting bowtie which still remains strapped around his head. The Doctor squints down at the wooden floor, until he finally spots it.

"Oh my god, there's sick on the floor!" He outbursts dramatically and she comes near him to guide him towards the hammock. "I'm not going over there! Get off my personage, I'm not going to the sick floor, you're sick! I'm perfectly fine with the standing!"

"Doctor." She says in a borderline tone of gentleness and impatience. "Who knows what you put yourself through. You need to sleep it off._ Clearly_."

He mutters indignantly, "You know, some individuals require substance motivation for a greater depth of enlightenment."

"Okay, that's the first thing that's come out of your mouth that's made any sense. Keep 'em comin'." She moves to wrap her arms around his waist, yet he quickly slaps them away.

"Your hands are cold!" He outbursts again and then firmly crosses his arms, beginning to pout. "I'm not going over there, I already told you."

Amy groans out a frustrated sigh, "_Doctor_. What am I going to have to do to get you to lie down?"

Suddenly, he grabs her arm and pulls her in, swooping up her mouth in his own and kissing her deeply. She stands stiffly flabbergasted, with her eyebrows arched high and a somewhat distressed expression on her face. The heel of her free hand lightly touches his shoulder, yet before reason can command it to shove him away, he gently releases her. Her cheeks are somewhat flooded with red and slowly, the Doctor leans in towards her, though she swiftly moves her head back, but his smile tells her to relax and to her surprise, she instantly does.

His forehead rests on hers and he whispers. "I'm waiting."

Before she can clear her throat self-consciously or shove him or ignore him or scoff or scold, a voice shouts off on deck and the Doctor leaps towards the door and walks out confidently.

"What do we have, Jack?" She hears him call to the pirate, and hesitantly, she brings her fingers to her lips and presses them together as her thoughts run amuck in her head.

The Doctor buttons his coat as a few arms of the crew feed out something from over the ship, and he smiles at the sight of a drenched body splattering onto the deck.

"What an odd sight." says the Doctor cheerfully, and he clasps his hands together as a few men kneel to the coughing and gasping figure. "Come along, Pond!" He shouts towards the captain's quarters, "I want you to meet our new friend."


End file.
